Weerd Science
Uh huh
Uh, and it goes something like this
In these troubled times yes a division exists
Made a decision to enlist and not make for the exit
I’d rather put the craft first than be on some of this next shit
You motherfuckers are asleep, you’re not lucid
Weighted down by the chain around your neck like nooses
Not to be a nuisance, but the second your news hits that all your money is gone
You need to get in the studio, pen some new hits
But what’s that? Oh, you went away for too long?
Nobody remembers your record up on the songs you guested on Because our attention spans are cut off like a severed hand
But never man, that’s why your band is back to touring in a van
You didn’t play the game right
You’re supposed to re-write the same song that payed people that first said
that «he's tight»
It’s quite literally the opposite of creativity the way these fucking assholes
run this music industry
And labels want to re-package old thoughts
And art takes a backseat to what is bought
When commerce meets commercial concerts
The comsters, word up it’s our first dollars
Well okay, here’s in advance on what you might do Lock you up for ten records brother, we really like you
We love your shit man, to the tune of three hundred grand
But don’t forget, right off the top half goes to Uncle Sam (what?)
And of course there’s your lawyer and your manager
They’re here for your benefit to protect you from the scavengers
70 grand, okay not a bad payday
But whatever revenue you get paid gets put back into your take
Well alright, I guess that’s just how the business is My t-shirt sales should help make up for the differences
Well that’s not a hundred percent true
They take 30 percent of your merch, I’m shocked your lawyer didn’t tell you
It’s called a three-sixty deal
That means all three hundred and sixty degrees they surround you and they steal
So while you’re off on the road, you’re doing shows
Killing yourself for your pimp like a bunch of fucking hoes